


Playing Doctor

by mundaneone



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mundaneone/pseuds/mundaneone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Batman Kink meme playing doctor, with Joker as the nurse and Harvey as the doctor.<br/>Originally posted to LJ on 09/06/2008</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> Post TDK, M/M sex, not beta’d, dark, mentions of other batman villains who may or may not appear in the Nolan!universe

“Scalpel.”  Soft titters at his side and a brush of latex covered fingers against the exposed skin of his wrist before a cool metal object was settled in his palm.  His hand came up and the blade was pressed against the soft flesh of an arm.  He could feel warmth at his side, a subtle shifting of his assistant.  The room was filled with the muffled sounds of harsh breathing and screams.  Neither doctor nor nurse flinched as a particularly raggedly pained shout emitted from their patient.  These sort of procedures could be painful, after all. 

 

The weight of the nurse’s hand settling over his own made him pause, but only briefly.  As one nurse and doctor pressed the scalpel in deeper, harder, and carved.  Another gurgled sound, like a wet sob.  The nurse leaned over the patient, running a blood coated latex covered hand through sweat slicked hair.

 

“Oh shush shush shush.  None of that now.” 

 

A smooth cut, from shoulder to shoulder.  The patient tried to scream, but couldn’t through the gag.  A few more precise incisions and the flesh was stripped away to reveal the muscles.  There were no more screams now.  The patient seemed to have lost consciousness.  The doctor turned to the nurse and nodded. 

 

The nurse giggled, a high pitched sound that echoed the noise shattering glass makes.  The nurse skipped over to the cupboards, the short skirt of the uniform riding up pale thighs.  The nurse wasn’t wearing underwear.  The gaudy pink heels made loud clacking sounds with each bouncing step.  The nurse returned and bent over the exam table at a ninety-degree angle.  The doctor eyed the raised skirt once more.  Not too much longer and he could bend the nurse over more, could inch that skirt up even higher.  But not yet.  There was still work to be done; a doctor must tend to his patients. 

 

A wave of bloody hands underneath the patient’s nose and the man on their table jerked, thrashed.  The gag did little to muffle the scream the patient emitted when the pain registered.  The nurse dropped the smelling salts onto the floor, caring little for how they fell or where.  The salts had done their job, they had revived the patient.  The doctor gave the nurse a slap on the ass.  A “good job” gesture.  The nurse tittered, twirled, and draped across the doctor’s chest. 

 

The scalpel was settled into the nurse’s hand, it was covered in blood and for a long moment the nurse simply stared at the blood as it dripped onto the floor.  The doctor peeled the flesh back a bit further and stabbed into the layer of muscle with a fresh knife.  The patient cried and the nurse leaned down near the patient’s ear and cooed and told soft lies.

 

“There there now.  It’s almost over.  The doctor’s nearly done.”  The patient turned a tear streaked face toward the nurse.  The dark rimmed eyes, white covered skin, and the bloody red smile etched across the face made the patient whimper, and try to pull away.  The slight movement made even more blood flow from the body and onto the floor. 

 

When the layer of muscle was gone the doctor smiled, a slow sickly smile.  Half of the doctor’s face was a charred mess.  The misused muscles on the burned half caused the scabbed flesh to split and bleed.  The blood dribbled down his face and the nurse leaned over to lap it up.

 

“Dr. Harvey… paging Dr. Harvey…”

 

“In a minute.”

 

With the muscle out of the way the doctor tugged at the soft ropey intestine and passed it to the nurse.  The nurse cackled, head thrown back and wide grin split open.  The organs in the nurse’s hands made squishing sounds as the nurse tugged and twisted them.  The nurse pouted.

 

“He isn’t going to tell you any more now than he told you before… Doctor.”  The nurse giggled, amused.  The nurse twirled the intestine as though it were a cane.  “He won’t be saying much of anything Harv~ey.”  The nurse paused.  “He’s dead.”

 

The doctor glared and picked up the limp wrist and felt for a pulse.  Nothing.  The doctor cursed, raged.  In a fit of fury the doctor stuffed his hands back inside the body and tore all that he could from the body, flung it all to the floor angrily.  The nurse laughed, cackling and spinning.  The organ still held in the nurse’s hand sprayed blood and intestinal fluid all around. 

 

“Shut up!” 

 

The nurse laughed, used a bloody hand to flip greasy green hair back.  “Come now, doc.  That’s not very nice.”

 

“Joker, I swear-“

 

“No no no Doct~or Harv~ey, you have to call me ‘nurse’ or ‘nurse Joker’!  You have to stay in character or it ruins all the fu~n.”

 

Harvey, the doctor, sighed and ripped the blood covered latex from his hands.  He glared at the bloody, mutilated corpse on the exam table for a long moment, eyeing the too wide eyes, tear tracks and greasy hair.  He’d been a dirty cop, had been on the payroll of some new player in Gotham.  Harvey had wanted some information on the new guy.  Had wanted to know who he was, what his game was.

 

It had been the Joker who had wanted to have some fun with it.  _It’ll be a game_ the Joker had said, _a great fun game.  Just you and me and the… the… hehe…patient_.  And Harvey had gone along with it, simply because it was never worth the effort to appose anything the Joker wanted.  So Harvey had donned the scrubs and the lab-coat and had sat by and watched as the Joker had slithered into the short little number that was the nurse uniform.  The heels had been an afterthought but for some reason Harvey couldn’t stop focusing on them.  Bright pink and clunky, they’d drawn his eyes like a moth to a flame. 

 

Securing the patient hadn’t been much of a challenge.  Knocking him out and tying him down to an exam table in an abandoned old insane asylum hadn’t been hard either.  There hadn’t been anything difficult about any of it.  But now the bastard was dead and Harvey hadn’t learned much of anything about their newest comrade other than he was calling himself “The Riddler”.  The Joker had nearly hacked up a lung he had been laughing so hard once he’d heard the name.  It had put a _smile_ on his face. 

 

Harvey undid the straps holding their patient to the table and with an infuriated grunt he kicked the body from the table.  For a moment they both just stared at the body, and then the Joker turned to look at him, mock glare in place.

 

“Doct~or that’s not how we dispose of the deceased.”  A series of hiccup-like chuckles.  “We need to place it in the morgue.” 

 

“This place is a morgue.” 

 

The Joker laughed, flitted up nice and close and Harvey watched the clown-nurse from the corner of his good eye.  Harvey turned, watched as the Joker danced away, around the table towards the corpse.  The Joker bent down, dress riding up ridiculously high, and rapped lightly on the dead man’s scull.

 

“Hell~o?  Mr. Patient?  Wakey-Wakey…”  The dead man didn’t move and the Joker looked up at Harvey, eyes theatrically wide.  “Doctor!  I think we’ve lost him!”

 

Harvey snorted.  “Yes, _nurse_ I think we did.” 

 

The Joker brought a bloody hand up to his mouth and flopped onto his back on the table.  “Oh say it isn’t so doc!  Say it isn’t _so_.” 

 

Harvey moved around the table, trailing his fingertips along the pale legs until he was standing between them.  His fingers made little circling motions at the clown’s ankle, where those damned shoes began.  He leaned down and hissed into a pale ear:

 

“You’re a fucking lunatic.” 

 

The Joker bucked his hips, the dress riding up even further.  It wasn’t doing any good covering the lower half of the clown’s body any more, and Harvey found he really couldn’t mind.  The hand not on the ankle settled against the Joker’s thigh. 

 

“Stay in character, doc.  Stay in character.”

 

A snort.  “Yes, yes.”  A speculative frown.  “Why nurse?”

 

“Yes doc?”  There was a breathless quality to the Joker’s voice. 

 

“I do believe you’re due for a physical.” Harvey paused, and shook his head.  He never understood how people could just… role-play like this.  He felt like a fool, but the Joker wanted to play so Harvey played along. 

 

The Joker roared with laughter, his head fell back and whacked painfully against the blood coated table.  A pitched whining sound came from the man beneath him when Harvey dug his fingers into the clown’s thigh a bit harder, a bit rougher.  That’s how the Joker liked it.  Hot and hard and meant to hurt. 

 

“Yes… yes come on…doc, come _on_.” 

 

“Now nurse, these examinations take time… if you want to do it right.”  He felt like laughing at himself.  But the man splayed on the table beneath him was panting harshly and straining upwards trying to get closer, trying to create some friction.  Murder always made the Joker horny. 

 

Harvey dragged fingers through the blood still coating the exam table and worked them inside the other man.  The Joker cackled, thrust downward and rolled his hips.  It had to have hurt.  Harvey hadn’t been gentle, hadn’t warned the Joker before he’d taken action.  The clown worked himself downward, fucking himself on Harvey’s blood lubed fingers. 

 

“Reactions seem normal…” as an afterthought, “for you anyway.”

 

Blood caked fingers with cracked nails dragged across Harvey’s hand.  “Character.  Stay in character!” 

 

“Yeah, yeah.”  He twisted his fingers roughly, shoved them in deeper.  The Joker keened, a whore’s sound.  He hated to admit it, but it aroused him in the worst ways whenever the Joker made those sorts of sounds.  “You seem perfectly healthy, Nurse.” 

 

Breathless chuckles, “re-really, hehehe, doc?  You, hahaha, think so?” 

 

Harvey snorted, “Yeah.  Yeah I really think so.”

 

“Well then… doctor… how about we have some, heh, fu~n?”

 

His fingers twisted, pressed in further, brushed roughly over the bundle of nerves deep inside, “I was under the impression we already were?” 

 

“Harv~ey!  Come on fuck me!”

 

Harvey laughed softly and pulled his fingers free.  They were coated in blood.  Their victims and the Joker’s from when Harvey’s harsh movements had caused him to bleed.  It seemed oddly intimate. 

 

“Nurse… you aren’t staying in character.” 

 

The Joker sneered, his bloody hands coming up and latched onto the white collar of Harvey’s lab coat and hauled the burned man down for a sloppy kiss of burn scars and knife scars, of smeared makeup and blood.  It was glorious. 

 

Trembling fingers undid his fly and pulled his cock free.  The Joker laughed and smoothed his bloody hands down Harvey’s scrubs, leaving dark red trails down the fabric.  The Joker loved marking Harvey up with blood, loved marking him in general.  A second of silent contemplation and then Harvey shoved in. 

 

“God you’re hot.” 

 

Mad cackles and the Joker wrapped his bare legs around Harvey’s waist and hauled him closer.  They set a harsh rhythm, meant to punish, that was how they loved it.  How they needed it.  The heels pressed painfully against Harvey’s back.  There would be bruises at the very least.  Bruises that would be pressed and rubbed later, bruises that would be used as foreplay at another time.  Harvey relished in their creation.  

 

“Come on doc, fuck me!”

 

The Joker hadn’t removed his gloves, they were slippery with blood and latex and they made it difficult for the clown to keep a hold of anything.  The Joker yowled, a high pitched noise that made Harvey thrust forward with a harsher, more desperate move.  The clown loved it rough, loved it hard.  Loved it when it made him bleed. 

 

“Harv~ey”  The Joker’s cum spurted onto Harvey’s scrub top, made white streaks to mirror the red.  With panting breaths the Joker leaned up, folded himself nearly double so that he could press his tongue to the fabric and lap at the stains he had made.  The clown moaned and continued to rock his hips, continued to love the feel of the cock inside him.

 

“Come on Harvey, come on…” 

 


End file.
